


For Another Time

by scoootieboi



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Angst, Coffeeshop AU, Fluff, Gay, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Scomiche, Scott is a sweetheart, Social Anxiety, soft, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 15:44:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12535292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoootieboi/pseuds/scoootieboi
Summary: Scott loves music.Mitch loves coffee.





	1. Scott

Mitch is spending his night in the small coffee shop, typing away on his laptop. He has a lengthy paper due within the next few days.

His focus is wrecked, though. He always comes to this coffee shop for the delicious brew. It's a fairly quiet place, too. The only sounds coming from quiet chatter or those brave enough to take on the open mic.

He's getting past the first page, his coffee already empty when he's forced to look up. 

The most lovely voice sings quietly at the mic, his blonde hair falling in his face as he stands over the mic stand. He looks nervous, hesitant almost, but the music just pours from the blonde, and Mitch is completely halted by it.

The lyrics don't really register in Mitch's brain, too occupied with the smooth melodic tones. He's got a keyboard with him, and Mitch thinks he looks pretty cute hunched over it.

He shakes off his thoughts, his sudden fixation with the blonde beauty, and returns to his paper. His fingers type away quickly, the sweet melody a good companion to the dreadful work.

-

He goes there often, Mitch realizes.

It's weird when he notices it. He had never seen the tall blonde before that one day, but now it seems that they are always at the coffee shop at the same time.

Mitch doesn't have any reason to complain, really. The guy isn't hard on the eyes,  _at all,_ and his voice is absolutely hypnotizing. He likes listening to it as he works.

He tells himself that he'll gather the courage to talk to him eventually.

He doesn't.

-

Kirstie comes with him sometimes.

She likes coffee and always loved the environment of the little shop. Mitch agrees it's charming.

However, he realizes all too late that they haven't been at the shop together since the blonde boy started showing up.

It's when they're talking, of course, comparing notes from one of humanities courses when the tall boy shuffles onto the small stage with his keyboard. Kirstie notices Mitch's focus shift to the singer.

"Do you know him?" She asks.

Mitch is thrown off, their conversation previously consisting of class-talk. "What?"

"The guy singing," she gestured toward the stage, "do you know him?"

Mitch shakes his head, "no. Why?"

"You literally just zoned in on him as soon as he showed up." Kirstie shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee as she angles herself to see the performance.

"I don't know him."

"Shame," she smiles. "He's real hot."

Mitch bites his lip, looking down at the table. He hopes if he avoids eye contact that she won't know that he's irrefutably attracted to the singer, but this is Kirstie. She somehow knew before the blonde man even showed up.

"So, you like him?"

"Shut up."

"He's really talented."

Mitch nods, mostly because he's sure anything he says will incriminate him.

She turns her attention back to him, "have you talked to him?"

"No."

"Mitch!"

He cringes, both at her volume and tone. He knows there must be a few people staring now, the singer likely one of them. His cheeks are already beginning to burn.

She reaches a hand across, taking his and squeezing it soothingly. "Sorry," she says, and Mitch knows she is. She can't help her outbursts, it's just who she is, and Mitch loves her for it. Despite that, he isn't one for attention and would rather it be directed toward someone more deserving, like the talented performer, than his enthusiastic best friend.

"It's okay," he pauses. "I want to talk to him - I will. I just haven't yet."

"Why not?"

"I haven't had the opportunity to, yet."

"Hm," she hums, turning her attention back toward the blonde. He's finished, it seems, as he packs away his keyboard. "What about now?"

Mitch's eyes shoot up to hers, "what? Now? No-"

"Why not?"

"I-I can't - he-" he stumbles.

"Yes, you can. You're Mitch Grassi, and you're beautiful. Go talk to that attractive boy, and get his number."

"But-"

"No buts, mister."

He sits for a moment, fiddling with his coffee cup. "What do I say?"

"Maybe start with a compliment."

"O-okay." Mitch says, standing on shaky knees. He can't remember feeling this nervous since his first date, it's silly, really. He's seen this man so many times before.

He pushes himself up out of the chair, his knees feeling wobbly as he stands. His pulse is racing, and he takes a shaky breath as he begins the small walk over to where the man of his attention is sitting, sipping on coffee. Another person has already taken the stage, and the blonde seems to be listening attentively, absorbed in the song. Mitch thinks it's adorable how much he appears to love music.

He makes it over there, somehow, stealing a quick glance back to Kirstie who's smirking as she subtly watches him.

"H-hello," he says and he's cursing inwardly at his stutter, feeling more pathetic than ever as he feels his cheeks redden. The man turns his attention to him, and Mitch almost gasps at the startlingly blue irises. They're absolutely vibrant up close, and it takes his breath away.

"Hi," he says, and his voice is smooth just as Mitch had expected.

"I'm Mitch," he says. He realizes this is becoming increasingly awkward as he nervously plays with his sleeves. He wishes he could just turn around and flee back to Kirstie but knows she'd only berate him about wimping out of this. "I love your songs - your music. It's  _really_  good a-and I just wanted to tell you that because I really enjoy hearing you sing and play."

He smiles and it's stunning, absolutely stunning. Mitch is terrified that he's standing because his knees get even weaker as his stomach floods with butterflies when he sees those beautiful pearly whites. He bets it's impossible at this rate, but his cheeks feel even warmer.

"Thank you," he says, his eyes crinkling at the sides. "I really appreciate that. I'm Scott, by the way. Would you like to sit with me?"

 _Scott_. Mitch likes it, thinks  _Scott and Mitch_  -  _Mitch and Scott -_ sounds nice together.

"I-" he glances back at Kirstie, she's not looking at him anymore, and he wishes she were, wishes she were giving him an out so that he wouldn't embarrass himself. This man -  _Scott_  - is so beautiful, and he's just Mitch. "I don't know," he fades off, because it's true. He doesn't know if he should sit with Scott, scared he'll mess up and ruin any chance he might have with him, but he also doesn't want to miss out on a chance.

Scott's eyes follow his, peeping Kirstie, and he smiles reassuringly at Mitch. "That's okay, you don't have to." He looks down at his cup of coffee, and Mitch thinks he's disappointed him, fucked things up. "Another time, yeah?" He says, and then he's standing, holding his hand out. Mitch quirks a brow before sticking his hand into Scott's. He assumes they're going to shake hands, thinks it's an awfully formal exchange.

He's wrong, he realizes as Scott holds Mitch's hand firmly as he pulls a sharpie from his pocket. He pulls the cap off using his mouth, and Mitch almost shivers. Scott scribbles on Mitch's hand, letting go once he's satisfied.

"That's my number," he smiles, grabbing his small keyboard and his bag. "For another time."


	2. Guilt

Mitch doesn't call him.

He knows he should, really. When he walked back over to the table, after Scott left, Kirstie bombarded him with questions. Of course, he told her all about how the stunning man had blown him away and given him his number. 

She had urged him to call right away, or at least text Scott. She said he was a solid ten, not to miss out.

He promises to call, text, whatever to appease her.

He doesn't.

-

It's not too long, really, Mitch tries to tell himself. Only a couple of days go by since the interaction. He still hasn't contacted Scott, has started typing out many texts, but he never hits send, too scared he'll sound awkward and send Scott running.

It doesn't really register what he's doing as he purchases the cup of coffee, generously tipping the barista like always. It isn't until he hears the all too familiar melody that he freezes, nearly drops his full cup of coffee. 

It's Scott, of course. He hasn't been in the coffee shop the past few times Mitch has stopped in, thankfully, but Mitch should have known his luck wouldn't last.

He feels terrible, guilty for not having called or texted, thinks he even deserves to feel that way. He shouldn't have left Scott in the wind, like that.

Mitch hopes the blonde won't notice him, pleads with the universe that he will be able to escape and run home to text him so he doesn't seem like he simply led Scott on. He knows it sounds bad; he's actually running away from the stunning boy because he's too embarrassed of the possible confrontation.

He's walking quickly, breezing past the small stage, angled away in hopes that Scott won't recognize him. Mitch is almost to the door, almost breathing the sigh of relief when Kirstie is walking in.

Of course, little she does is quiet or subtle, and she's quickly and enthusiastically greeting Mitch, blowing his almost complete attempt at escape.

"Mitchie!" She gasps, hugging him and pulling him to the side of the cafe. He isn't escaping now, accepting his fate instead. "Are you leaving? You should stay!" She glances toward the counter, then the stage. "Scott is here."

Mitch reaches a hand up, rubbing his face. He feels it getting warmer, hating it. He wishes he could survive a day without the redness creeping onto his face, the embarrassment is crippling.

"I know. I was leaving but I guess not anymore." At this point, he figures why bother trying to run away when it's fruitless - Scott surely has already noticed his presence.

"Awesome, go grab a table or booth and I'll get my coffee."

He nods and picks one far away from Scott, hopes that the beautiful man will forget he's there, doubts he will. He slides into the booth, leaving the chairs open for his best friend with poor timing to choose from.

Kirstie approaches the table shortly after, hot beverage in her small hands. She sits across from him before smiling sweetly at him. She really is pretty, Mitch has to admit. He'd totally fall for her if he weren't gay.

"Sheesh," she laughs, "you sure sat far away from piano boy."

"It's a keyboard," he mumbles.

"Wow, okay, what's wrong, Mister Sassy-pants?"

Mitch shakes his head, looking up, "nothing."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, sure." They sip on their coffee quietly for a bit, both enjoying Scott's music. Mitch's anxiety increases exponentially as each second passes. He fears Scott will come up to him, confront him. On the other hand, though, he guesses there might be a chance he won't - maybe he'll ignore him just as Mitch ignored him. He isn't sure which would feel worse. He probably deserves whatever happens, though.

Eventually, the songs stop, the stage is empty. Scott puts his keyboard in his usual table, accompanied by his backpack. Mitch thinks he might be in the clear, thinks maybe Scott won't come over while he's with Kirstie.

He's wrong.

Scott strides over, his own caffeinated beverage in hand, and he's all smiles. It makes Mitch want to burst.

"Hey," he greets Mitch. "Sorry if I interrupted-"

"No, you're good." Kirstie smiles. "I'm Kirstie and you're really talented."

"Thank you! I'm Scott," Mitch thinks this giant is actually glowing, and it makes him feel like he's on fire. He feels the shame and absolute guilt rising up his chest, his heart racing as Scott stands so close. "Mind if I join you two?"

There's an uncomfortable pause as Mitch and Kirstie attempt to communicate silently. He is tempted to say yes, but he's so scared. There's so many things that could go wrong, and he isn't sure he'll be able to handle any of them.

"I don't mind," Kirstie pipes up. Mitch is sure he could crawl into an actual hole and die now.

"Great, thank you." He says, sitting to the right of Mitch. He scoots the chair closer to the table after pulling it out and sitting, and Mitch can't help but notice that Scott is closer to him than Kirstie. He sums it up to be a coincidence, supposes he's overanalyzing things.

They sit uncomfortably, sipping on their coffees in quiet. Nobody has taken the stage yet, their lack of conversation amplified by the silent setting. Mitch is pretty sure his heart is beating out of his chest, though. He supposes that has to be loud.

"So," Kirstie finally breaks the ice. Mitch is thankful she's here, grateful she can help ease the awkwardness that follows him. "Scott, how long have you been performing?"

He thinks for a moment, "I'd have to say at least two years. I'm not too serious about it - I mean, I  _kinda_  am. I really love it and love performing, but I do it for fun. Any official-ish things I do for money are just cool and beneficial to my bank account."

And my god, Mitch is pretty sure he could cry. He's floored, really, watching Scott talk about performing. It's only a few sentence but Mitch is sure he couldn't be happier Kirstie asked him such a question. His eyes, the beautiful blue orbs, and the light they hold as he talks about it makes Mitch's stomach swarm with butterflies. He thinks he could listen to Scott talk for hours about what he loves if he glows like that every time.

"You're really good at singing," Mitch says quietly, surprised at his own words. Scott's head turns to him, his eyes staring tenderly at him. Mitch feels like he could melt under the gaze. "I love your voice."

Scott smiles, eyes crinkle, "thank you so much. Gosh, you guys are so sweet."

"Well, you sure are a charmer," Kirstie laughs. Her phone vibrates then, she glances at it, unlocking it. "I'd hate to cute this short boys, but I've gotta go. Got a hot date with my boyfriend," she smiles, standing. "I hope I see you again - both of you! It was a pleasure meeting you, Scott."

He beams, "you too!"

And then she's walking out the door, gone, and Mitch is alone with the beautiful boy he never called.


	3. Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for a mild anxiety attack

"You didn't call," Scott whispers.

"I know." And Mitch hates it, hates admitting that it's true he never called the beautiful man sitting next to him. He's too scared to even admit that he thought about calling, almost did, many times. "I'm sorry, I was going to."

"Okay," Scott says, smiles at him sweetly but not as brightly as before. It makes Mitch want to burst into tears, seeing this subtle change in Scott's expression. He wants to see him beam again. "I'll let you make it up to me by having coffee with me here, now. Deal?"

Mitch is speechless, honestly. He's confused as to how he stumbled across this absolute sweetheart, wants to know how they crossed paths and how Scott is even of the same species. He's too sweet, could give Mitch cavities.

He finds himself promising, "deal," anyway.

-

They don't talk about much, honestly. Mitch is too shaken up about being caught, and it's obvious that Scott isn't seeming too cheerful. He looks nervous, but Mitch realizes he might just be uncomfortable, maybe regretting giving Mitch another chance.

They make polite conversation, Mitch asking if Scott is in school - finds out they go to the same college - and he asks about Scott's major. It all seems off though, forced even. He thinks Scott doesn't want to be here.

They continue mindlessly chatting, asking impersonal questions with vague answers. Mitch notices Scott suddenly perk up as another similarly tall blonde walks into the coffee shop.

"Alex, hey!"

He turns, and then the blonde - Alex, he assumes - is walking over, and Mitch is feeling cornered. It's suddenly two against one, and he isn't sure he likes being the one. He shrinks into the cushiony seat, his coffee clutched close to his body.

"Hi Scott, how are you?"

"I'm good. How's school been?" They start chatting, and Mitch is a little grateful he isn't forced to converse with the complete stranger - conversing with Scott is hard enough without embarrassing himself. Of course, he realizes the air is only becoming awkward as Scott's friend steals a glance from him here and there. He doesn't want to be impolite, really, but his anxiety is already overflowing.

"I-I'm sorry to interrupt," Mitch says. He is, really, Scott seems so happy to be talking to Alex. "I need to go - sorry." And he hates apologizing, feels his face bursting with red heat as he stands and starts making his way to the door. He needs to get outside, desperately needs some air.

He hears Scott, hears, "wait," and then the sound of a chair scraping across the floor, but he can't stop. He's already beyond embarrassed, and he  _just needs air._

Mitch gasps, grateful for the fresh air when he pushes open the cafe's glass door. He doesn't stop there, maneuvers himself so he's off to the side, hidden from passerby's and sits on the bench there. He finally let's air flood his lungs, the cold prickling at his hot cheeks.

He barely registers Scott's voice, calling his name. Mitch is trying to ground himself, focuses on his breathing instead of the anxiety gripping at his throat. He knows his hands are shaking, refuses to look at them and instead digs them into his thighs as he stares at a crack in the sidewalk.

He's almost okay, or at least stable enough to get up when he suddenly feels a hand covering his. He jumps, breaking out of focus and resulting back to his anxiety-ridden state. His breath escapes him, and he thinks he might feel hot tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. It's Scott, he realizes, and he almost feels better knowing it's the beautiful man, but he's almost mad at him for interrupting something he shouldn't - for seeing him this way.

"Mitch," he says, and Mitch suddenly realizes that Scott keeps repeating his name, won't stop. He holds onto Mitch's hand, tightly, despite the nails that are trying to press in, digging into Scott's pale flesh. Mitch can't help it, it's reflex. He keeps repeating Mitch's name, the same tone ringing through his ears, and Mitch finds himself holding on to his voice, letting it soothe him. His eyes dart up to Scott's, and he almost instantly regrets it. They're so deep, bottomless, and he doesn't think he can hold eye contact with him much longer.

His breathing steadies, his hands ease their grip, and he lets his eyes focus on the blue, blinding blue.

It's startling really, the brightness in Scott's eyes. He realizes Scott is still quietly saying his name.

"Yes?" He croaks. His voice sounds rough and he almost cringes, knows if it weren't for the icy chill in the air, his cheeks would be on fire.

"You're okay," Scott breathes and Mitch watches as the tension rushes from Scott's  
body. His shoulders fall, his hands aren't as stiff and he let's his eyes flicker away from Mitch. "Would you like some water? Do you need anything?"

And Mitch feels it, the humility, flooding back into his veins. It's pumping through him now, swallowing him.

He shakes his head, no.

"Please - I want to help."

But Mitch doesn't want help right now, can feel the gaze of Scott's friend through the window. He hates that Scott is seeing him this way, so vulnerable and raw and intimate. He's only spoken with Scott once before, doesn't want to scare him off so soon.

"I want to go home."

"I'll take you there. Let me just-"

"No!" He's sorry for the outburst, watches as Scott flinches at his raised tone. He regrets it, really, just wants Scott to understand. "I need to be alone, I'm sorry."

He tries to stand, his legs shaking, and hopes Scott doesn't notice. He thinks he's embarrassed himself enough today.

"Okay," and his voice is crestfallen, quiet. Mitch hates himself for upsetting this angel but he can't keep embarrassing himself in front of Scott. "I'm sorry."

Mitch wants to walk away, running away even seems nice, but he's stuck in place. His back is already turned, he's facing the direction of home, but his heart races when he thinks of leaving Scott like this, so he doesn't.

He turns, instead, grabbing Scott's hand to squeeze gently. He wants to reassure him,  
wants to let him know that he appreciates the help Scott had attempted to give.

"I'll call you when I'm home."

It's small, really. The gesture seems insignificant.

The smile, small smile that tugs at Scott's lips and creases the corner of his eyes - that is more than significant to Mitch.


	4. Home

Mitch almost collapses when he gets home.

He's glad he's home, even happier he's home alone.

He knows he promised to call Scott, thinks he can send him a quick text since he's surely not ready to hold a conversation.

_it's Mitch, I'm home so don't worry. can I call you later?_

He almost hits send, doesn't. He thinks he retypes the message several times before deciding against even texting him. He feels bad about it, knows he'll feel even worse later, but he needs to come back to the normal world before he attempts to communicate with anyone.

-

Nearly two hours have passed when he wakes up from the nap he hadn't intended on taking. Mitch doesn't remember reaching his bed, isn't sure how soon after he came home he let himself fall asleep. He lets his eyes flutter open, adjusts to the bit of light coming in through the window to his right.

His phone vibrates on his small desk tucked in the corner and he jolts up, realizes he never fucking called Scott. His heart thumps heavily in his chest, his brain overthinking everything. He fears Scott will never want to talk to him again after he didn't call him -  _again_.

Mitch leaps off the bed, races over to his phone. He realizes the vibration was only an email notification. He lets his finger slide, unlocks his phone, finds his way to his contacts and hovers over Scott name. He bites his lip, fear and uncertainty clawing its way up his throat. He selects his name, calls Scott anyway.

There's only a few deafening rings before he hears it, the pause as Scott answers his call.

"Hello?" He sounds utterly confused, and Mitch almost forgets to answer, halted by how adorable Scott sounds.

"Hi," Mitch breathes, "it's Mitch. I'm sorry I forgot to call, again - I fell asleep."

"It's okay," Scott says, and Mitch hates this, really hates phone calls in general. He can't read Scott's facial expression, can't be truly sure if it's okay or if Scott just doesn't want to upset him. "I was getting a little worried, actually. I'm glad you called, though."

Mitch senses a smile, isn't sure how he can, just does. He lets one of his own tug at the corner of his lips, thinks he would look crazy if someone else were near.

"Why?" He hopes it doesn't sound harsh or rude, truly isn't intending to. Mitch is genuinely curious, wants to know why he was worried - why he's glad, now.

"A few reasons, really. I was nervous that something happened to you, if I'm being honest. There was a small part of me, though, that was pretty nervous you just weren't going to call again."

He feels uncomfortable, now, his inability to call Scott before slipping up in conversation, haunting him.

"I'm sorry."

"It's completely okay, I promise. You called."

"I did." He wants to hurl himself off a building, smack his head against the wall. His replies are completely ridiculous, bland. He wishes he were good wth words.

"So, while I have you on the phone," Scott starts. Mitch is grateful he can at least hold a conversation, seeing as Mitch is proving unable. "When can I see you again? I mean, running into you at the coffee shop is fine and all - trust me, I really enjoy seeing you - but it would be nice if we - I don't know - hung out sometime?" There's a pause, Mitch doesn't speak, isn't sure if Scott is finished considering the rapid fire speed he had spoken the uncertain words. "That was a little forward, I just - I think you're a sweet person, and I'd like to get to know you a bit."

Mitch can feel his heart racing, thudding in his chest, even. He's glad they're talking over the phone, more than thankful that Scott can't see his reaction whatsoever. He realizes he hasn't replied, left a tense silence in the air, "I'd like that."

-

Mitch knocks softly on the door. He's always hesitant, nervous the address his phone guides him to will be different from the one Scott gave him.

He's got a bottle of wine in his hands - he was hesitant about that, too. He originally wanted to bring coffee, thought it might be a cute gesture considering they met at the coffee shop, but he decided against it, didn't want to come on too strong.

He regrets bringing wine, thinks it might be a little too suggestive. This isn't a date, after all. At least, if it was a date, neither had bothered to clarify.

Mitch lets out a breath, his shoulders tense, when he hears the sound of the knob turning and then the door is opening. He has to use every ounce of strength to keep from his jaw dropping.

Scott looks stunning, his blonde hair is beautifully messy, looks as if he has been running his hands through it. He's wearing dark jeans, ripped at the knees to show his pale skin. His shirt is black, loose, and hands at his upper thighs. Scott is wearing a pale yellow short sleeve flannel over it, unbuttoned and flowy.

"Mitch, hi! Come in," he says with a pleasant smile. Mitch loves watching the corners of his eyes crinkle when he shows his pearly white teeth.

With a deep breath and a few steps, Mitch follows Scott into his home.


	5. Wine

Mitch doesn't see much of Scott's home but he is impressed by the size of it. It'a a big house for a college student to be living in, but Mitch assumes he has roommates.

He follows Scott into the kitchen and the smells hit him al at once.

"I made us brownies. I didn't know what kind of food you like but everybody enjoys chocolate and so-"

"That's sweet of you. Thank you."

"I see you have wine!" Scott smiles, grabbing two wine glasses from the cupboard and two small plates for the brownies. He sets them gently on the counter before rummaging through one of the cabinet drawers, pulling out a corkscrew. He grabs for the wine, opening it and pouring a hefty amount into both of the glasses. Mitch smiles, thinks if it was Scott's intent to get him drunk, he isn't being very subtle about it.

Scott hands him a glass, sipping on his own and smiling.

"Thank you," Mitch mumbled, gripping the stem of the glass tightly.

"Would you like a brownie?"

"Yes, please."

Scott cuts into them, setting one on each plate. He hands on off to Mitch, grabs his own.

"I have a movie set up in the living room, if you're cool with that." He starts heading out of the kitchen, Mitch follows. "Now listen, don't judge me for my movie taste. If you don't like it, we can always watch something else."

Mitch watches Scott, follows him as he walks around the couch, sits down, placing his glass and plate on the table. Mitch lets his eyes drift to the television, a smile breaking out on his face.

"I love this movie!" Mitch mumbles excitedly.

"Oh my god, really?"

"Yes, of course. Who doesn't love The Spongebob Movie?"

"You just keep getting better and better," Scott says wistfully. Mitch feels his face prickle with heat, attempts to cover it with a sip of wine but it's useless, he feels it travel down his neck.

They sit in comfortable silence, the movie entertaining them rather than awkward conversation. Mitch is thankful for movies, lessens the pressure to communicate which he isn't exactly the best at. He's glad Scott isn't the kind of person who talks through movies.

It's more than halfway, Spongebob and Patrick have become men thanks to Mindy, and Mitch feels Scott shift on the couch. He's closer now, their thighs touching, and Mitch feels the heat furiously bloom in his cheeks. He thinks he has never blushed so much before, Scott being the only one who can make him feel this way.

He wants to run, get far away from Scott and the  _things_  he makes Mitch feel but he's stuck here.

The proximity, despite how minimal it is, has Mitch on edge and it's amplified when Scott reaches forward for his wine glass, his fingers accidentally - or is it really accidental - brushing against Mitch's leg. He hopes Scott doesn't notice his sudden intake of breath, hopes he doesn't see the way his shoulders tense.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concern etched on his face. Mitch feels trapped, completely trapped and he has to use every ounce of energy to prevent himself from completely losing it just like he has in the cafe.

He nods, thankful that Scott doesn't try to push for a more solid answer. He turns his attention back to the movie, letting Mitch take a deep slow breath. His senses are still hyper aware of Scott's leg pressed firmly against his, his knee still tingling where Scott's fingers had pressed - lightly, but noticeably.

He focuses his attention back on the movie, hopes it will help distract him from the man sitting so close.

-

The movie ends faster than Mitch had expected, despite having had seen if more time than he could count. Scott stands almost immediately after it's done, removing it from the DVD player and returning it to its case. He smiles softly at Mitch when he catches his eye and heat takes over his cheeks. He looks down at his lap, fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

When he looks back up, let's his eyes settle on Scott's face, Scott is biting at his lip, forehead creased as he thinks.

Mitch doesn't say anything, soaks in the uncomfortable silence. He grabs and sips at his nearly empty glass of wine. He's a bit surprised to see the bottle empty, doesn't recall drinking more than the one glass, assumes Scott had drank most of it.

"You don't want to be here," Scott sighs. He runs a hand through his silky hair, his eyes staring at the empty bottle of wine. "I'm sorry, you don't have to stay. I just - I'm sorry. It's obvious you're uncomfortable and I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

Mitch's brow furrows, "what?"

"You aren't having fun - you were tense for basically half of the movie."

"I-I'm sorry," he whispers. His cheeks are heating up, the shame swallowing him. He had hoped he wasn't being bothersome, didn't want Scott to feel as if this was his fault. He had done everything he could, everything right. Mitch was broken. "I-" he falters, his voice threatening to crack. The guilt is clutching at his throat now, and he bites his lip harshly.

"It's okay," Scott says, moving closer.

"No," he reaches up, lets his hands run over his face. "This was nice - I promise. I just," he takes a deep breath. He isn't sure how to explain that he's so incapable of functioning properly. He doesn't want to burden Scott.

Scott is concerned now, he can't tell. He moves to sit next to him, angles his body toward Mitch so that he can see him completely. Mitch risks a glance at him, his cheeks reddened. Despite his current state, he cannot deny the beauty of the man sitting next to him.

"Mitch?" he says, his voice is soft and sweet and for a moment, Mitch feels himself calm, feels the tension leave his shoulders for a second.

"Scott," he breathes shakily. "This was great, I promise. I-I really enjoyed myself." He lowers his hands, watches as the shakily find their way to his knees.

"Really?" he asks quietly, and Mitch glances to him, notices how small he's become, hates that he's forced this doubt into him. Mitch nods, smiles subtly when Scott seems to perk up, his eyes gleaming. "Can," he pauses, bites at his lip. "Can I hug you? If you say no, I totally-"

"Yes."

He smiles brightly as Mitch angles his body on the couch, faces him. He's nervous, of course, isn't sure how he will react to such closeness and intimacy with Scott considering he had nearly burst into flames when only their legs had touched. But he wants to know - wants to know what will occur now if he can evoke such strong feelings with small touches.

His arms stretch, his body leans forward and Mitch almost jolts when he feels hands wrap around his back. He's pulled forward into Scott's chest, his arms reaching up to settle on his firm back. He sighs contentedly, his burning cheeks pressed against Scott's chest as his chest bursts, feels as if flames are going at it.

He knows now that Scott can start a fire in him, and he would gladly let him.


	6. Something

Mitch goes to the coffeeshop almost every day, hopes to see Scott again, misses his voice. He sits, drinks his coffee at a table close to the stage and, when he realizes  _Scott is not coming_ , leaves. He tries to deny the ache in his chest, the shame eating away at him. He is a boy, a broken boy, waiting for a man that never comes, a man that doesn't need or want him.

It's weeks before Mitch sees the singer at the coffeeshop again, fees more hesitant than ever when Scott walks in. He heads to the stage, unsurprisingly, doesn't even spare a glance toward Mitch. He ignores his bitter thoughts - Scott doesn't owe him anything.

He sips at his coffee, listens to Scott sing. He doesn't think he can manage watching him, too nervous of making eye contact. Mitch is pretty sure his heart does flips every time he sees him - hopes one day he can tell Scott just that.

For now, though, he'll settle on watching from afar, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest and the abundance of butterflies that swarm in his stomach whenever he sees him.

He tries his very best to ignore the sting, blinks away hot tears when Scott doesn't so much as even wave at him. Instead, the blonde collects his things and walks right out of the shop, doesn't even acknowledge Mitch.

He worries his lip between his teeth, unsure whether to chase after Scott or remain seated. Scott's actions are weird, unnatural even, and it leaves Mitch feeling really unsettled.

If he lets him go, he'll have no idea as to why Scott seems so distant, could lose him. He knows he doesn't want that. However, he'll also have saved himself some uncomfortable conversation - confrontation could lead to possible rejection, and Mitch has never been fond of either.

On the other hand, he's hesitant to run after him, cause a scene. This could be a pure misunderstanding - Scott might have simply not  _noticed_  Mitch was there, rather than have ignored him. He doesn't see the need to draw attention to something that might not even be intentional. He would rather not corner Scott, doesn't see the point in calling him out for what could be a simple mistake.

He shakes his head.

His coffee is empty, nothing is keeping him here. He had come solely in hopes of running into the blonde man again - he needs to know what's going on, and now. He refuses to play a coward.

Mitch pushes himself up from the table, tosses his cup in the can as he tugs his jacket tightly around him and braves the cold to follow Scott.

"Hey," he says, his voice targeted at Scott's back. He doesn't acknowledge him, " _hey!"_ He moves faster, tries to catch up to Scott's fast pace. His hand reaches out, he grips his jacket and tugs it, "Scott."

He spins around, deep blue eyes locking onto Mitch's brown ones. Mitch's heart is racing, beating erratically as he takes in Scott's hardened expression. He looks angry, seems bothered, and Mitch wishes he would've stayed in the coffeeshop. He's never been good with confrontation, and he doesn't think he'll be any better now.

His eyes soften momentarily, his voice is quiet, "Mitch." He runs a hand through his hair but when his hands drop, that same hard expression is there. "What do you want?"

Mitch falters, all hope disappearing at the harsh tone and cold face staring back at him. "I-you," he breathes. "You just left."

"Yeah."

"You didn't say hi," Mitch says. His voice is small, wavering slightly. He hates to look weak, hopes he doesn't start getting emotional.

"Yeah? I didn't say hi? You didn't talk to me for weeks."

"W-what? I came here -  _everyday_."

Scott sighs. He seems tired now, his blue eyes lacking their usual sparkle. "You have my number, Mitch. You could've texted - called.  _Something_."

"I did  _something -_ I came here everyday just to see you!" Mitch argues, his voice raised. He refuses to meet Scott's eyes. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry," he croaks, tears gathering in his eyes. He shivers, the cold biting at his cheeks.

"Damn it," he sighs, his arms opening. "Can I hug you?"

Mitch lets his eyes meet blue, frowns but nods his consent. He welcomes the big warm arms that wrap around him, almost coos happily when Scott lets his chin rest on the top of his head. His own arms stay locked at his side as he is held closely to Scott. The warmth is greatly appreciated in the chilly weather.

"Look, I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have - I should've-" he sighs, words escaping him. "I don't know what to say. Please, just, next time - can we communicate next time? If you come here everyday,  _let me know?_ " Scott laughs quietly. It seems a bit forced, doesn't reach deep inside of him. "Can you do that, Mitch?"

He nods again, doesn't want to talk. He's sure his voice will crack - plus, he'd sound muffled with his head pressed into Scott's chest, and he's too comfortable to pull away.

"I'm sorry," Scott repeats. "I've just," he sighs again, and Mitch doesn't like it. He doesn't like how exhausted this beautiful man holding him sounds. "I've had a lot to deal with lately, and I really could've used a text from you. I know it would've made my day a lot easier. I don't - I'm not trying to make you feel guilty-"

"Too late," Mitch whispers. He means for it to sound humorous, intends for it to break the tension that's hanging between them, but all it does is cause Scott to tense and continue to apologize. He starts, but Mitch shushes him, reaches his hands up to wrap around Scott, finally. He squeezes him tightly, hopes it'll communicate that he doesn't want to talk about this anymore, just wants to enjoy Scott's presence, wants to stay pressed against his firm chest. He wants to forgive, wants to  _forget_  this.

Scott stops talking, sighs quietly and rubs his hand subtly up and down Mitch's upper back. Mitch hopes this means that he's forgiven him, hopes it means that they can simply forget the little quarrel. He'll try harder, he promises himself that. He hates seeing Scott upset, wants to move on from this and make sure the beautiful man who's holding him close only smiles, never frowns. He deserves it.

Because Scott makes _him_  happy, so it's only natural and right that he would do all he can to make Scott happy. Scott deserves it.

They stand, the cold biting at their exposed skin as they hold each other close, and Mitch can imagine this moment no other way.


	7. Moment

Kirstie invites him to her house party.

It's not really his scene, never has been. He gets nervous around crowds of strangers, and it is only heightened in the setting, where it's likely that he'll be frequently approached by random men trying to make a move. He normally doesn't want their advances, but it never seems to stop them.

Mitch agrees, nevertheless, because he feels a bit guilty for dropping off the face of the earth the past week or so. He has only really kept in contact with Scott, and even then, the words exchanged through texts were minimum. His friends understood, though. It wasn't unlike Mitch to go through several rough days, in which he barely had any energy to function, let alone set aside time to hang around with others.

So, he goes to the loud party because he misses Kirstie, and because he is pretty sure she would have broken down his door and dragged him there if he had tried to bail on her.

When he arrives, he expects to see a few people there - it's obvious that her boyfriend would attend, and he sees a few friends that she tends to be around or invite to other occassions. Who he doesn't expect to see is the tall blonde standing right near her, laughing along to something she says as if they have been friends since they were little.

Something makes him feel a little on edge, watching as his best friend and his - crush? Was that what he was calling Scott now? - his Scott get along, laughing and talking, and generally not paying much attention to him. He feels like an outcast, and he doesn't think he likes it.

Jeremy flashes a smile at him, hovering by Kirstie. His look causes Kirstie to finally glance his way, and she looks very excited, waving him over enthusiastically but walking toward him anyway, not having enough patience to wait for him to walk over himself. Scott and Jeremy follow behind her, and Mitch feels his heart rate pick up as they all get closer to him.

"Mitchy!" She squeals when she's finally wound her way through the crowded room. She gathers him in a tight hug. "I'm so glad you came."

He simply smiles, hugging her back.

-

The whole night remains uneventful, for the most part. Mitch doesn't know very many people aside from Kirstie, her boyfriend, and Scott. Kirstie spends the night hosting, mingling with her guests, which overall leads Mitch to find a more secluded area. He doesn't expect her constant attention, and he isn't bitter about it.

After polite greetings, Scott and Mitch seemed to part. Turns out Scott is more of a social butterfly than Mitch - surprise.

For the most part, it all forces Mitch to sit off to the side, nursing a fruity drink concoction in hand. He doesn't remember what it's composed of, only remembers that Kirstie said he would like it and proceeded to pour it for him. He likes it.

He scans the room, people-watching at this point, in an attempt to either find someone to connect to or, at the least, entertain himself. The party scene isn't his thing, and it's becoming painfully obvious.

Mitch's eyes land on Kris. He's surprised to see him here, didn't know that he and Kirstie were even friends. He contemplates approaching him, almost even decides against it considering their weird dynamic together, but he goes for it anyway. Kris looks lonely, surprising considering his fucking super model looks, and Mitch always has fun around him.

"Mitchy!" Kris calls, extending his arms out from his position in the loveseat. "I haven't seen you in forever."

It's true, they haven't been together since their last party together that ended with both of them tongue-fucking in some person's bedroom after Mitch's loneliness was at its peak and Kris was done with the consistent rejection he had received that night.

"I know," Mitch smiles at the memory, plopping down into the spot next to Kris. He's immediately is pulled into Kris' side.

"Listen, you look like you need a nice, good fuck tonight."

"Kris!"

"Hear me out - okay," he laughs, "you need a man tonight and, lucky for you, I know your type."

-

Mitch is glad he's at least with Kris. The night is full of Kris trying to hook him up with random guys, pointing out unashamedly at how he totally needs to be filled by several different gay men at the party.

It's when Kris insists he needs a refill and drags Mitch along with him that things get really interesting.

They push their way into the small kitchen, Kris leading the way. They're almost through the crowd when he stops, Mitch missing a beat and running right into the back of his friend.

"What the-"

"Fuck," Kris breathes, "Mitch you have to fuck him. If you don't, I promise, I will."

"Who?" Mitch peers over his shoulder, scanning the room for who Kris could possibly be referring to.

"Him," Kris points. Mitch follows in the direction his finger is pointing, eyes landing on Jeremy.

"I can't fuck Kirstie's boyfriend."

"No, not him - tall, blonde, and handsome he's talking to."

"Scott?"

"You know him? Damn, Mitchy, how have you not jumped his bones yet?"

"'Dunno," Mitch shrugs, thinks that the gesture will prove a better option than attempting to explain his and Scott's odd dynamic.

"That changes tonight."

-

Kris makes it his personal mission to set up the two. He's constantly forcing them into conversation, causing encounters between Scott and Mitch. It's all a little weird, Mitch thinks, but Scott doesn't seem to notice. If he does, he's too polite to let on.

It escalates when Kris bumps into Scott while he's conversing with Mitch. He practically slams his entire back into the tall blonde, causing him to stumble and his filled cup to slosh over the side, splattering Mitch with alcohol.

The liquid starts sinking into his shirt, his skin instantly chilled by the cold beverage. A slew of apologies fly from Scott's mouth, his cup being placed to the side as he looks around frantically in search of something to possibly wipe up the spill seeping into Mitch's top.

Mitch is frozen, shocked, and a little annoyed at Kris. His attempt to force them together isn't so subtle, and he glares at his friend as Kris winks at him, blows him a kiss, too. Mitch makes a mental note to deal with him later.

"Shit," Scott mutters, looking around for something. He spots Kirstie instead, grabs Mitch's hand and pulls him along. "Kirst, do you have something-"

"Uh oh," she interrupts, glancing at Mitch. She points to her left, to the hall. "There's washcloths in the cabinet above the toilet - try that."

Scott smiles, tugging Mitch along by the hand and glancing back. "I'm sorry," he says.

"It's okay," Mitch shrugs as he's pulled into the small bathroom. Scott leaves him by the sink as he rummages through Kirstie's small cabinet, pulling out a light blue cloth. He uses it to try to fix some of the damage he's already clearly done.

"I'm so sorry," he says, wiping frustratedly at the growing stain. He's very close, and Mitch knows his heart starts racing when Scott lifts his shirt a bit to rub at the liquid that has seeped through to his skin.

"It's okay."

Scott's eyes meet Mitch's, their faces close. Mitch notices, watches as Scott's pale lashes flutter against his cheek when he blinks. He follows Scott's own gaze, watches as his eyes settle on his lips, watches him swallow when Mitch wets his lips with his tongue.

And it's only a moment. Only a moment when Scott and Mitch lock eyes again and then it's gone, and they're both surging forward, their lips pressing together so softly - despite the passion that's fueling it.

Mitch is kissing Scott - he's kissing Scott, the singer from the café who took his breath away in the first moment they met just like he is now.


	8. Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one gets a little mature..

Mitch is being hoisted up, feels his feet being lifted off the ground as his legs are pulled around Scott's waist. A tongue is invading his mouth as large hands run along his thighs, squeezing gently at the middle.

Scott sets him on top of the small vanity, and it's a bit uncomfortable, his butt dipping into the sink a bit, but Scott's addictive, and Mitch can't help but keep pushing forward as Scott lets his hands travel, trail up Mitch's thigh and dig gently into the soft clothed flesh.

They are making out at this point, tongues pushing in and out of each other's mouths. Mitch thinks it's erotic, loves the way Scott is putting his all into this sudden kissing session. His teeth come out to play, occasionally, tugging on Mitch's bottom lip as he slides his hands under his damp shirt to explore the skin there.

Mitch gasps quietly, revels in the sensation of Scott's cold fingertips against his heated skin, ignited by the overwhelmingness of Scott. He's reaching his hands up, playing with the small hairs at the base of Scott's head as his legs tighten around his waist.

Scott is the perfect height, too, just right so that their hips subtly rub together. There's a little moan from Mitch, but it's swallowed up by Scott's mouth almost as immediately as it's released. Scott lets out a quiet groan when the bulge growing in his tight jeans rubs just right against Mitch.

Scott's hands grip Mitch's hips tightly, pull him closely against him. Mitch whimpers, pants into Scott's mouth as large hands fumble with the button and zipper on his skinny jeans, tugging and pulling.

It's quiet, a subtle knocking on the door, almost too low of a rumble for either to notice as quiet noises escape them both, but Mitch hears it, pries his lips away from Scott's red and swollen ones. He turns his head, eyes locking on the locked door handle that jiggles.

Scott remains oblivious, instead turning his attention to Mitch's bare neck that's being presented to him, latching onto the smooth expanse of skin there. He sucks hard, and it has Mitch's toes curling, but his eyes are still fixated on the door that wants to open.

Mitch grips Scott's firm broad shoulders, pushes gently, "Scott - Scott, stop." Scott leans back, eyes laced with worry. Mitch nods his head toward the door, whispers, "someone is trying to get in."

Scott glances to the side, clears his throat awkwardly before taking a step back, adjusting himself. "Yeah, uh, sorry." He mumbles.

"Hey," comes from the other side of the door, "I need to fucking pee!"

Scott bites his lip, helps Mitch scoot off the vanity, waits as he buttons up his pants. He rubs bashfully at the back of his neck before twisting the lock and pulling open the bathroom door.

"Oh, thank god," Kirstie groans, shoving her way into the bathroom. "You guys have been in here forever."

"Sorry," Scott says sheepishly, shuffling toward the door and glancing hesitantly at Mitch.

Kirstie halts, turns, even sends them a cold glare, but then she looks over both of the boys. She takes in their disheveled clothes, Scott's tousled hair, their red, bruised lips.

Her eyes widen, a giggle escaping, "oh my god. You two were totally just fucking in here-"

"We weren't!" Scott interrupts, but Mitch already feels the anxiety creeping up. His heart is racing now, his breath coming out in little puffs. He thinks he can feel the burn of tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

He's pathetic, he thinks, making out with Scott in his friend's bathroom while Scott is probably too drunk to realize his mistake. Mitch thinks he might be sick, or he at least will start crying, and that is the last thing he wants to do in front of Kirstie, and especially in front of Scott.

So he turns abruptly on his heel, races out of the bathroom. He feels the hot tears starting to stream down his face, rubs at them angrily. He hopes he's not noticeable, hopes nobody recognizes that he's shamefully crying. He bumps into Kris as he storms toward the front door, stumbles into his friend who immediately wraps his arms around him protectively when he notices that Mitch is practically sobbing.

"Mitchy, what's wrong?"

Mitch just shakes his head, burrows into Kris's neck. He wants to disappear, needs to get out of this crowded place. He can feel eyes on him, and he hates it.

"Okay, okay," Kris soothes, rubs his back gently. "Let's get out of here. I'll take you home."

"Please," Mitch hiccups into his chest.

-

It all happens in a blur, really. Mitch feels himself being guided, barely registers himself being settled into the back of an uber. He refuses to let Kris leave him, holds tightly onto his hand, and his friend obliges, doesn't let go.

"Want to talk about what happened?" He says softly.

Mitch frowns, peers at his unoccupied hand, "I kissed Scott."

Kris's eyes widen, "you - what?"

"Well, he kissed me - we kissed. It was a mistake," Mitch whispers.

"Why do you say that?"

Mitch sighs, "I'm me, Kris. You've seen him - I'm the kind of guy he'd only ever kiss if he were drunk, and I know he's going to regret it."

"That's silly," Kris says, squeezing Mitch's hand. "You're a great guy - you're kind, genuine, and super attractive." Both boys laugh softly. "If the way Scott looks at you is anything to go by, I think he won't  _ever_  regret kissing you, Mitchy."

Mitch rubs frustratedly at his face, leans into Kris. "I ruined it all - I kissed him, and then I ran away from him. He's never going to want to speak to me again."

"He seems like a nice guy, Mitch. Don't count him out yet."

Mitch sighs, burrowing his head further into the crook of Kris's neck. His friend places a soft kiss on his temple, stroking his thumb along the knuckles on his hand. "I'll try."

The rest of the car ride is quiet, only the soft hum of the engine and the outside providing any noise. Mitch sits comfortably against Kris, thankful he isn't riding all alone. He's pretty sure he would still be a sobbing mess if he were.

When they get to Mitch's home, Kris gives his hand a gentle squeeze, urges him toward the car door.

Mitch steps out, turns to close the door and says a soft, "thank you," to Kris because he really means it, isn't sure he would be so stable if it weren't for his friend comforting him after the entire fiasco tonight.

Kris smiles, bares his pearly whites, "it's nothing." There's a pause, where Mitch grips the door, smiles fondly back at Kris. "It's all going to be okay, Mitchy."

And Mitch thinks he really means it, thinks it might even be true.

Maybe it will all be okay.


	9. Like

Mitch shows up to the cafe, daily. He thinks about texting Scott, almost does several times, but he decides against it. He realizes he isn't sure what he would say, anyway.

The kiss lingers in his mind, begs to be discussed. Mitch is hesitant though, kind of hopes Scott will bring it up first so he can more easily get a feel for how the blonde is interpreting it. He'd rather that than setting himself up to fail by babbling, ranting about what it meant to him and scaring the blonde away.

It's days, though, days of sitting alone at his familiar table in the coffeeshop waiting for the familiar beauty to walk through the door.

So, despite his anxiety, he texts Scott, asks if he wants to meet him at their usual spot.

And Scott says yes.

-

Mitch shows up first, buys himself his typical order, waits for Scott to show up. He decides against purchasing him a drink, isn't completely sure what Scott likes and wouldn't want to embarrass himself.

It's only a couple of minutes that he waits, despite it feeling like hours. Scott passes through the glass door, coat flurrying and scarf wrapped snuggly around his neck. He looks so soft, so comfortable, and it sends a little shiver down Mitch's spine because he realizes he know. He knows how soft Scott is, what his skin feels like under his fingertips, knows how tender and pliant his lips can be.

He shrugs the thought away, focuses instead on how nervous Scott looks as he takes a hesitant seat across from Mitch. He rubs his hands together nervously, picks at his fingernails. There's an awkward pause, neither saying anything as an uncomfortable silence lingers between them.

Scott finally clears his throat, "Mitch, I know you didn't just call me here to hang out."

Mitch bites his lip, stares at a spot on the table that's the barrier between them. Scott is right, he doesn't just want to be around him, knows they need to talk about what happened. The reality doesn't make him any less nervous, though.

"We kissed," Mitch says quietly.

"You're right, we did kiss."

"I don't know what happens next - I don't know where we go from here," Mitch whispers, his heart racing, his breath becoming shallower. He hopes Scott will provide some direction, hopes he can just say what he feels because Mitch has never been very good at that.

"What do you want to happen?"

Mitch shrugs weakly, "I don't know." And it's a lie, a blatant lie, he thinks. He knows what he wants more than anything is Scott. He might not be sure in what way, but he is sure that he feels something for the tall blonde sitting in front of him, and that's undeniable.

Scott sighs, runs a hand through his pretty sandy blonde hair. "I'm  _glad_ we kissed. I don't know what you're feeling, and I am not claiming to know whatsoever, but the kiss? I'm glad it happened, and, if I had another chance, I would do it again." He takes an uneven breath, stares down at his shaky hands before resting them on the table. "I like you, Mitch. If you don't like me back, that's okay. I just needed to tell you that I don't regret anything that happened between us."

Mitch pauses, takes in everything that Scott has said. It's unexpected, really. He feels his heart fluttering from the mere idea of Scott maybe wanting him even a smidgen as much as he wants Scott.

"You  _like_  me?" He asks, and his voice is small, so small and sheepish. He feels the red tinting his cheeks, creeping up his chest and neck. It's all so overwhelming and subtly reminiscent of days from his childhood.

Scott bites his lip, gives a small smile. He looks more shy now than Mitch thinks he has ever seen him. He wrings his hands nervously in his lap, gulps, before admitting, "yeah, I  _like_ you."

And Mitch's heart bursts, probably beats out of his chest.  _Scott?_   _Scott_ likes  _him?_  It's honestly ridiculous, and he thinks for a moment that this is all some cruel joke until he remembers that this is Scott, and Scott would never.

"So," Mitch starts. He can't maintain eye contact with Scott at the moment, is too scared that his face will burst into flames. "What happens next? What are we?"

Scott shrugs, "I don't know. We can be whatever we want to be. We can do whatever we want, now."

Mitch bites at his lip, worries it between his teeth as his brow begins to furrow. Scott is right, they can do  _anything_  now, be  _anything_.

It's fucking scary.

Mitch feels the fear creeping up inside of him, the uncertainty of what is to come next. Will they shift into a romantic relationship? Are they going to have a more sexually-based connection? Does Scott want what Mitch wants? All of these unanswered questions and more seep into him, cloud his brain with foggy irrationalities.

"Mitch, what's wrong?" Scott's gentle voice coaxes him out of his thoughts, soothes his quickly approaching anxiety. "Are you okay?"

He nods, his head moving almost imperceptibly as he attempts to settle himself. "Yeah," Mitch sighs, "I'm okay." And he is trying his best to mean it, doesn't want his desire for more of a commitment than Scott's 'I don't know' to scare the blonde away, doesn't want him to feel pressured to conform to a relationship if it isn't truly what he wants.

In reality, Mitch isn't opposed to just feeling things out and simply being around Scott, being physically with him and emotionally connected without a label like 'boyfriend' attached. But, he will admit that he would prefer the security and certainty that comes along with a committed, defined relationship.

He hopes he can just shrug it off, hopes Scott will change his mind or maybe elaborate as their relationship progresses, if not soon, but he has this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that insists he cannot maintain a relationship without a clear thought of where it is going, what its potential is.

Mitch wants Scott, wants to be with him, and while a label doesn't dictate that, and Mitch will want Scott all the same, it would certainly help Mitch feel less insecure about the entire situation.

His biggest obstacle comes in the form of communicating all of this. While he knows that Scott is kind, genuine, and would ultimately support him as he voices all of his fears, he also does not want to be the deciding factor. If Scott decides he wants to put a label on what they might have, Mitch wants him to have chosen entirely of his own free will, which means he is uncomfortable expressing his insecurities, so as not to pressure Scott in any way.

He grins sweetly at Scott when the blonde shifts in his seat, his thoughts interrupted again. Scott smiles politely back, his pretty eyes crinkling in the corner.

"I have to get going, but I'm happy we got to sit down and talk about all of this." He stands, pushing his chair in. Mitch gets up, as well.

"Yeah," Mitch smiles, his chair scrapes quietly against the floor as he moves it. "I have to leave, too, but I'm glad we got to talk." He moves to head for the door, gets closer to Scott, and he feels hands grabbing out for him, arms swallowing him.

He's being pressed into Scott's chest, held comfortably there, and he almost sighs at how lovely it all feels, how Scott's scent, touch, overwhelms all of his senses.

Mitch smiles, lets his arms fold around Scott's broad back.

"I'll talk to you soon, okay?" Scott whispers into Mitch's hair, plants a gentle kiss there before moving back, Mitch's arms falling to his side as pink overtakes his cheeks.

"Yeah," Mitch mumbles, smiles softly to himself, to Scott's back as he retreats, heads toward the door. "Okay."


	10. Special

It's only a few days before Mitch and Scott reunite. It's at Scott's place, a casual date, Mitch supposes - assumes, really. He isn't entirely sure, though, didn't ask because he wasn't certain if he wanted to hear the answer, if he could handle hearing the answer.

He only knows that he's wearing really tight jeans, and his shirt is a semi-transparent to flash his tattoos, hopes that the bite of the cold air isn't for naught. He's feigning confidence that he doesn't have, hoping that if he's lucky, this will be a date, and the man he has been pining over for weeks will make a romantic advance on him.

If he's lucky.

-

It really seems like a date, if the fancy meal and the close proximity on Scott's small couch is anything to go by. Their thighs touch, wine is tucked between long fingers, and the television plays, a quiet lull in the background.

Mitch feels a bit overwhelmed - the buzz of the movie fills the silence; the warmth of Scott's thigh seeps through to his own fiery skin; the tartness of the wine attacks his tastebuds; Scott's sandy hair, his pale skin, flash in the corner of his eyes; the subtle smell of Scott's cologne, his detergent, him, it all invades his nostrils.

He feels the couch sink a bit, feels the cushion behind him being weighed down, and Mitch almost jumps when he feels a warm arm nestle around his shoulders. Instead, he snuggles into his side, almost sighs happily at how natural and right it feels, feels like he belongs there.

"Mitchy?" Scott says quietly, tilts his head so that he is looking at Mitch even though Mitch isn't really looking back, only peeking through his peripherals.

"Yeah?"

"D'ya want some popcorn?"

Mitch smiles softly, "sure."

Scott's arm slides away as he pushes himself up, and Mitch almost whines in protest. Thankfully, he holds back, seems to have more dignity than that tonight - although he's sure that's a bit questionable considering he's completely overdressed for the night.

His attention drifts from the television, focuses on the soft sound of popping kernels coming from the kitchen. Only a few minutes later is Scott returning, a large bowl of popcorn in his hands as he sits gently beside Mitch. He settles the popcorn between them and starts munching on it, popping a few kernels into his mouth at once before fishing his hand back into the bowl.

Mitch bites his lip, waits for Scott to retrieve his hand before grabbing some popcorn as to ensure he won't accidentally bump against him and make things awkward. Apparently Scott senses that Mitch is tense because he's shifting in his seat, turning to face Mitch.

"Okay," he sighs, "what's wrong?"

"What?"

"Mitch, please, you don't have to pretend like you're comfortable if you're not. What's wrong?" He reaches a hand over, hesitates halfway, but commits to placing his large hand along Mitch's jaw. He tilts Mitch's face, forces him to look at him, and Mitch finds himself melting into the touch, wanting to just let go and fall into Scott's entire being. "Talk to me, Mitchy."

His eyes are blue - of course - but there's so much hiding in them, and Mitch wishes he could read Scott better, wishes he could read him half as well as Scott can apparently read him.

"I'm just," he starts, wishes he could explain everything to Scott - like how he's scared Scott won't ever want to commit to him - but he knows he can't actually talk about anything without influencing Scott, and he really isn't sure what's wrong. He's not so sure that it's a bad idea to just  _be_  with Scott, in whatever way he can get him. He's sure he can be content with that - maybe not completely happy, but it's a compromise he's willing to make since he's pretty sure Scott is worth it, whether he gets to call him his boyfriend or not. He realizes he hasn't spoken in a bit, has been swallowed up by his thoughts. Scott's fingers twitch against his jaw, and he's brought back to reality, his eyes flicking up to meet Scott's pretty blue ones. "I'm nervous," he admits. Mitch guesses he's at least being mostly honest, since he's pretty fucking nervous. Every move Scott makes sets him  _on fire_ , and he isn't sure what to do once he's ablaze.

"Why are you nervous?" Scott asks gently. Mitch thinks it's the first time someone has asked him  _why_  rather than just invalidated him, just blown of his anxiety and attempted to assure him that he has  _no reason to be nervous_.

He sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. He's shamelessly resting his head fully onto Scott's palm now. "I haven't been in a lot of relationships," he admits. "A-and, if I'm being honest, there's something  _special_  about you."

His eyes open, lock onto Scott, and he doesn't think he's ever seen a prettier sight. His eyes are  _soft,_  completely drooped and focused on him. He's got a very subtle shade of pink dusting his softly freckled cheeks and the tender smile that's gracing his lips has Mitch  _melting_ even further into his touch.

"There's something special about you, too." He whispers, guiding Mitch toward him, leaning forward. There is a moment where Mitch almost panics as he's nearing Scott, but the gentle hand that cupping his jaw so pleasantly has his nerves dissipating and his eyes fluttering shut instead.

Their lips meet and it's  _so gentle_. Mitch feels himself just melting into Scott, a hand settling on a strong bicep as Scott smooths a hand through Mitch's short hair, his other resting in the junction of Mitch's neck. It's a gentle and innocent, their mouths moving slowly against one another, tongue peeking through lips and running along lips.

Mitch feels like he's simultaneously falling and floating, isn't sure how that works, only know his stomach feels like it's dropped but his heart and head feel light.

They kiss for a few beats, until they have to break away and breathe. Mitch smiles, eyes still closed and he feels something - someone - resting against his forehead, realizes it's Scott after he collects his breath, when his eyes flutter open.

Scott's got a soft smile, his eyes half lidded and full of affection. " _That_  was special, too."

Mitch giggles along with Scott, noses brushing, because  _yeah_ , that was pretty special.


	11. Daisy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a daisy can be symbol for true love, according to the one website i consulted

_"So,"_  Scott says. They've been on the phone for shy of an hour, just talking about little things. Family, friends, school, Scott's music.  _"I know that we've only been on a few dates, now, and the last time we were at a party together, things didn't turn out so great."_

"Scott," Mitch says, "get to the point."

 _"My friend is having a dinner party this Friday for his birthday, and he said I could bring a date. So,"_ he pauses, " _would you be my date?"_

-

Scott picks Mitch up around five-thirty and their drive to his friend's house is pretty quiet - not uncomfortably, though.

Scott is the ultimate gentleman, opens up the passenger door for Mitch and he doesn't even realize it but Scott has a  _flower_ in his hands. A single daisy, and Mitch is surprised because it's so untraditional but it has his heart warming.

"Oh my god, Scott," he whispers, takes the offered hand that pulls him out of the passenger seat and accepts the flower. "You're too much." Scott just laughs quietly, wraps an arm around Mitch and kisses the top of his head.

The car door shuts and they start up the walk. "Just to warn you," Scott says when they near the door. "My friends can be a little...  _intense."_

Mitch giggles, snuggles further into Scott's side and clutches the daisy to his chest. Scott raps on the door before pushing his way in.

The house is small. There's quiet music playing and the smell of food is wafting throughout the home.

"Avi!" Scott calls. "Your favorite person is finally here." Scott lets his hand fall from Mitch's shoulder, slip down and clutch Mitch's hand instead.

A short brunet with beautiful long curls pops his head around the corner. He's got a bright smile, and pretty eyes, Mitch thinks. The light radiating from him almost steals Mitch's breath away.

He runs up to Scott, arms wide and Mitch almost pouts when Scott lets go of his hand to hug Avi.

"Hey, Goldilocks." Avi says, pats his hand against Scott's back before letting go and stepping back. "How have you been?"

"Good -  _really_  good." Scott smiles, spares a glance toward Mitch before returning his attention to his friend. "Happy birthday, by the way."

Avi nods, his eyes drifting to Mitch. "Who's this, Scotty?"

Mitch shifts uncomfortably.

"This is Mitch - my boyfriend."

Mitch almost chokes, knows he probably looks fucking crazy because  _boyfriend_? They haven't talked about it, and it's not like he's complaining. He's wanted to be Scott's boyfriend since they met, if he's being honest. He shakes off his thoughts, looks up and tries to rejoin the conversation.

Avi smiles brightly, sticks his hand out. "Ah, you're  _Mitch_. I'm Avi. It's nice to meet you! I've heard  _a lot_  about you."

Mitch feels his cheeks bursting with red as he shakes Avi's hand and mumbles a quiet, "hello."

"Okay, okay," Scott says, shoves Avi playfully and slides an arm around Mitch's waist, pulling him close. "That's enough embarrassing me for the night. Got it, Avi?"

He laughs, a deep low rumble in his chest. "Okay, Goldilocks. Come get some grub!"

The follow after Avi through his house, Scott keeping Mitch close by his side. He kisses Mitch's temple when they get to the table, before they sit down. Scott pulls out his chair, pushes it in for Mitch like the gentleman he is. He takes his spot next to Mitch, scoots close to him and rests a hand on his thigh as he asks, "are you okay?"

Mitch nods. Despite the social anxiety tickling his throat, he feels calm. Avi was nice and Scott's being really touchy - really  _comforting_.

"I'm good. Just," he worries his lip between his teeth, isn't sure if he should bring it up now. "Can we talk later? About the, uh,  _boyfriend_  thing?"

Scott nods, "is it bad?" He asks quietly.

Mitch shakes his head, gives him a shy smile to reassure him. "Not at all."

-

"Did you have fun?" Scott asks as they leave. He had hugged his friends goodbye, promised Avi to call him sometime this week and take him out to a big barbecue lunch.

Mitch nods, pushes himself into Scott's side as they walk to the car. "It was nice. Your friends are nice."

Scott holds open the passenger door for Mitch, pushes it closed as Mitch buckles up. When he slides into the driver's seat, he turns to Mitch. "Your place or mine?"

"What?" Mitch blanks, doesn't understand why Scott wouldn't just take him home. His mind is really foggy.

"You said you wanted to talk," Scott says, sliding on his seatbelt.

"Oh," Mitch says, reaches up a hand to rub at his face. "Uh, your's, I guess?"

Scott smiles, starts the car. "Got it."

-

Mitch is clutching his daisy to his chest as he sits nervously on Scott's couch. He offered to make some coffee and Mitch is a little grateful to have some time alone with his thoughts.

Scott called him his  _boyfriend_. Mitch isn't sure if he meant it or if he just said it because it was the easiest label to use in front of his friends. It's what he plans to address when Scott comes back into the room, but he feels his anxiousness grasping at his throat.

Eventually he hears quiet footsteps and Scott settles next to him, angles his body to give Mitch his full attention. He places a cup onto the table, his own settled in between his hands. There's some cream and sugar set on the table, too.

"I wasn't sure what you liked so I just brought out everything," Scott giggles, tries to diffuse the bit of tension that's lingering between them. Mitch leans forward, places his daisy gently onto the table and starts adding things to his coffee to distract himself, to ease his nerves.

"You called me your boyfriend," he whispers, guesses he's just going to go for it. He has no plan at this point.

Scott freezes a bit, sets his coffee down on the table. "Yeah," he frowns, "I know we didn't talk about it but I just thought - I guess, I wasn't really thinking, actually. I don't know."

"Did you mean it?" Mitch asks, lets his attention settle into Scott, ignores his coffee for the moment. He needs to see Scott's face when he gives his answer. "I mean, do you want me to be your boyfriend?"

"I-" Scott sighs. "Yeah. I do. I know we haven't talked about any of this and I shouldn't have just-"

"I want to be your boyfriend," Mitch says. He smiles shyly as he settles closer to Scott. Their knees are touching now and he wants so badly to  _kiss_  him, but he knows they need to talk; they can kiss later if this all works out.

"You do?" Scott sets his mug down on the table, and his pretty eyes meet Mitch for the first time, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He looks so  _soft_  and  _happy_ and it really does things to Mitch's heart.

Mitch nods, "I know we've only been a few dates, but like you said on our first one - there's something  _special_  about this, about  _us_."

Scott smiles so sweetly at him and Mitch feels his chest flooding with warmth, the heat crawling up his neck and dusting his cheeks. "There  _is_  something special about  _us_ , Mitchy." He turns his body, moves more into Mitch's space. His hands start roaming, pressing into sides and arms and thighs. His big palm rests onto Mitch's face, his thumb circling on the apple of his cheek. His other hand disappears altogether, reaches for something on the table as he brings the single daisy into view. He presses it into Mitch's hand, places a gentle kiss on his nose. "I know I already gave this to you, but I was wondering if I could use it as an offering of some sort? Like, I don't know. I guess when I imagined asking you to be my boyfriend, I thought it would be more  _grand_  - like, a pretty candlelit dinner and a bouquet of a dozen roses - so I'm hoping that, for now, this little daisy will suffice as me wooing you? Like -  _oh God,_  I'm ruining this - but if you take it, it'll mean that, yeah, you'll be my boyfriend."

Mitch's fingers grip the daisy tightly and he can't even  _respond,_  can only smile brightly, because Scott is just being  _so sweet_  and  _adorable_. It feels like he's actually pulling Mitch's heart open so that he can nestle himself into it.

"This daisy," he whispers, presses a kiss to the crease between Scott's brow, wants the worry to fade away. "It is  _more_  than enough." Their noses brush together and he presses the single flower to his chest. "I would love to be your boyfriend, Scott."

"Well," Scott sighs with relief and pulls Mitch into his arm, snuggles him tightly. "then I'm the luckiest man alive, Mitchy."

Mitch can only happily burrow further into Scott's arm, the daisy settled between their chests.


	12. Epilogue

It seems like time passes by so fast. Days of being with Scott turn into weeks, which turns into months, and then they're quickly approaching their one year anniversary.

Mitch doesn't get Scott anything big, just plans to pamper him and cuddle him all day. He'd be entirely content to spend their entire anniversary in bed together, celebrating with kisses and touches.

So he doesn't buy anything for Scott because he hopes he can just cuddle him and maybe cook him dinner as a gift instead.

-

He wakes up to the smell of bacon and an empty bed. Pushing the covers off, he sits up and slips on a pair of boxer briefs from the ground. He'll shower later.

Scott looks hot in the kitchen, standing by the stove with only a pair of sweatpants on. Mitch takes a seat on a stool, watching him happily.

Scott startles when he turns around to plate the food he's made for them, his empty hand flying to his chest. "Mitchy! You scared me."

"Sorry," he says softly, sending a gentle smile to Scott. "You made us breakfast?"

"Mhm," he hums, scraping some eggs onto a plate. "Gotta' pamper my boyfriend on our one-year anniversary, right?"

Mitch feels pink tinting his cheeks as he reaches for the plate that Scott slides his way. "I planned on pampering  _you_."

"We can pamper each other," Scott says, sliding onto the stool next to Mitch and taking a bite of eggs.

-

They had spent most of the day cuddling, talking, kissing, and then Scott had made him a nice dinner, the table decorated cutely with candles and a few roses. It all had been so nice.

Then Kirstin called. She had sounded panicked, on the verge of tears almost. She wouldn't tell Mitch what was wrong, only insisted that she absolutely needed him to come over. He had worried his lip between his teeth as he ended the call with her, a promise that he'd be there soon falling from his lips before he hung up.

Scott had been fine with him leaving, said he has gotten the whole day with his boyfriend and knew he'd get the rest of the night with him so it was more than okay that he go be there for his friend. Mitch had kissed him, hugged him tightly, and murmured, "happy anniversary."

When he gets to his best friend's house, he's really prepared for the worst. He's tense, and a little anxious even. He tries the breathing exercises Scott had showed him a few weeks ago as he stands in front of Kirstie's door, and they help a little bit. Or maybe it's the thought of Scott that helps.

She opens it, seems frazzled as she pulls him inside. He's dragged into her living room where she shoved him onto her couch. He bounces slightly on the cushion.

"Woah," he says, eyes wide. "What is going on?"

"I'm in love with Jeremy," she says.

Mitch waits for more, assumes there's a  _but_  somewhere in there, and when she doesn't continue he just smiles. "Is that all?"

"Are you serious?"

"I don't see what's so crazy about that."

"I haven't told him, yet." She says, exasperatedly.

"Are you going to?"

"Well, yeah. I just," she sits next to Mitch, fiddles with her hands. "Have you told Scott?"

"Woah, woah, woah." Mitch says. "Told him I love him?"

"Yeah."

"No! That - it hasn't even - no! It hasn't come up yet."

"Do you love him?"

"I - maybe - I don't know. I think so, maybe, yeah." Mitch blabbers. His heart is starting to race.

"I think you should tell him," she says. "It's your anniversary. And I think, if you're being honest with yourself, you loved him from the very moment you heard him in that coffee shop."

Mitch smiles fondly at the memory, can picture Scott up on the little stage so clearly. Maybe he did love him then, just didn't know at the time. "You should tell Jeremy."

She sighs dramatically, "fine, fine." She stands, holding her hand out to pull Mitch up. "Thank you, Mitch." She says as she hugs him.

-

Mitch returns to an dark house. The lights are all out as he steps inside, and he figures Scott just retreated to the bedroom. He makes his way there, stretching as he get to the door of their bedroom. He pushes it open, the smile on his lips falling as he realizes Scott isn't here, either.

He looks around the room, the only light coming from their one lamp and the open door  of the bathroom. He makes his way to the doorway, pausing and looking down when he feels something weird on his sock-covered foot.

They're white rose petals, a trail leading to their big bathtub where Scott sits on the side. There are candles everywhere and Mitch feels tears starting to sting the corners of his eyes.

"Scott," he says, stepping further into the bathroom. The tub is full, a few more petals scattered in the water. Scott smiles at him, holding his hand out. Mitch goes to take it, wants to curl his fingers into Scott's - wants to just curl into Scott in general - and then he sees what Scott is holding, and he chokes on a sob. " _Scott_."

It's a single daisy.

"Mitchy," he breathes, pulling Mitch close to stand between his legs. He holds out the flower and Mitch greedily takes it, holds it close to him and presses his face into Scott's neck as he feels strong arms wrap around him.

"How did you-? When?"

"I have Kirstie to thank."

Mitch just cries, happy sobs wracking his body. He stands safely in Scott's arm, the daisy held between their bodies, presses against their hearts.

"I love you," Mitch whispers, and Scott's arms tighten around him.

He presses a gentle kiss to Mitch's hair, "I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for having read this. I hope you truly enjoyed it <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos/comment!


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